


days of blue

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: When Geralt first met Jaskier, he had been paid to kill him.And he was perfectly willing to do it - he was a professional. He was paid to kill a monster or a beast, and he did it, no questions asked. Except as soon as he saw Jaskier in the water, he knew something was different about this one. He looked human, for one, with dark hair and light skin.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 669





	days of blue

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

When Geralt first met Jaskier, he had been paid to kill him.

And he was perfectly willing to do it - he was a professional. He was paid to kill a monster or a beast, and he did it, no questions asked. Except as soon as he saw Jaskier in the water, he knew something was different about this one. He looked human, for one, with dark hair and light skin.

But Geralt knew - under the water - he most likely didn’t look human at all.

“You’re going to kill me,” he said, and his voice was sweet and soft. Like most sirens. 

Geralt’s sword was heavy in his dominant hand as he approached the water. He crouched down and the siren swam closer, fearless. Geralt respected that. “I was paid to do it,” he said in way of a proper reply.

Frankly, he didn’t really care if the siren lived or not, as long as he wasn’t attacking and killing innocents. Geralt unfortunately did have a bit of morals. Just a bit.

“I haven’t attacked any of them,” the siren said, “Why do they want me dead?”

Geralt shrugged, “Humans are scared of things they don’t understand, and unfortunately you fit under that category.”

The siren was quiet for a long moment. “Are you scared? he asked finally.

Geralt was surprised by the question. He stared at him. He really did look human, but he knew better. He could just barely see his tail through the murky water, swaying back and forth.

“I’m not,” he answered honestly.

The siren did something unexpected at that: he grinned, bright like the sun.

“If you’re going to kill me,” he said, still light and airy, like he was discussing the weather, not his death, “can I at least ask for your name?”

Geralt squinted, “Geralt - of Rivia.”

“I’m Jaskier,” he replied quickly. Before Geralt could say anything else, he tilted his head back, exposing his neck. It was long, and untouched, smooth. Geralt could kill him, fast and painless. He just had to lift his sword and swing it. “Well?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Geralt cursed under his breath, “No, I’m not.”

Jaskier blinked, looking genuinely surprised by the development. “Why not?”

“You need to go,” he said, standing up. “Before the sun rises, you need to be as far from here as possible.” Jaskier opened his mouth, but he just barreled on, relentless, “Do you understand?”

Jaskier swam back, slow. “I do,” he said. “But _why_?”

Geralt sighed, sheathing his sword. “You’re not a monster,” he said simply. “Go.”

Without replying, he turned in the water, splashing, and ducked under, swimming away. Geralt sighed again and scratched his cheek. Perhaps he was getting too soft.

*

Geralt saw him again a few months later. He had just finished killing a beast when he approached the water, crouching down. He heard a splash and looked up, startling when he saw Jaskier staring back at him.

“You’re hurt,” he said, nodding at his arm.

Geralt shrugged, “That’s why I’m cleaning it.” He reached down and cupped some of the water in his hands.

Jaskier swam closer, “Wait,” he said, tail splashing in the water, back and forth. He almost looked nervous, Geralt realized, and he wondered briefly if he should draw his sword or not. “Let me help.”

That was not what he’d been expecting, not by far. “What?” he blurted.

Jaskier smiled softly. He was unfairly pretty, as were most sirens. He knew it was a trick. Still, he couldn’t help thinking how - under different circumstances - he would’ve happily went to bed with the other man. “Here,” he said, beckoning him closer.

Geralt frowned as he shuffled closer, “Just reminding you that I have a sword.”

“Oh, I remember,” he replied, eyes twinkling, as he reached up and gently scrubbed away the dirt surrounding Geralt’s wound. “This is pretty deep,” he commented after a moment, lips pursed. “Will you really be okay?”

Geralt shifted, sitting down. Jaskier cupped a bit of water in his hands and poured it over the wound. The water washed away, browned by dirt and blood. “I already took an elixir, should stop an infection or anything like that.”

“But will _you_ be _okay_?” he repeated, looking up at him. His eyes were bright under the moonlight. He really was beautiful. Geralt barely caught himself before he leaned forward, drawn to him.

He cleared his throat loudly and stood up, ignoring Jaskier’s hum of disappointment. “You shouldn’t show yourself so easily,” he said gruffly. “You might not be so lucky next time.”

“I don’t show myself for humans,” he replied, “just you, my dear.”

Geralt’s stomach did something funny. “Goodbye, Jaskier,” he said roughly. He turned away before he ended up doing something they would both regret. Even if he liked Jaskier - which he _didn’t_ \- there was no possibility of anything happening between them.

Because he was a witcher, and he was a siren.

*

The next he saw him he was walking along the water with Yennefer. He halted to a sudden stop and Yennefer grabbed his arm, looking at him funny. “Geralt, are you - “

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “He’s here.”

“Who?” she asked, tugging on his arm. “Geralt, who are you talking about?”

He didn’t have to answer; Jaskier swam closer and Yennefer blinked at him.

“Is that him?” she asked, awed. 

Jaskier tilted his head, eyes twinkling. “He’s told you about me?” he asked, and Geralt suddenly wished he could get them away from each other.

But Yennefer approached the water and crouched. “Oh,” she said, grinning like a shark. “He’s told me _all_ about you,” she assured him.

“Okay,” Geralt said, walking over and pulling her up by the arm. “Absolutely not.”

Jaskier grinned at him. “Running off so soon?”

Yennefer pulled her arm out of his grip and patted his chest, _hard_. “It’s okay,” she said pointedly, “I can walk back on my own.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away.

Geralt thought about chasing after her, but truthfully he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay and talk to Jaskier, who he hadn’t seen in months. He would never _admit_ that, of course, not in so many words.

“I have a question,” Jaskier announced loudly.

Geralt turned to him and crouched down. His knees ached, as they were prone to do. He was actually staying with Yennefer to heal up, take a small break. Witchers weren’t human, not entirely, but they still needed breaks. “What?” he asked gruffly, unable to help himself.

“Is she your...” he raised his eyebrows. “Well, you know.”

Geralt snorted, “Not exactly. But you wouldn’t be the first to think that.”

He had slept with Yennefer a few times, especially in the beginning, but nowadays they were mostly just friends. Or family, really.

“She’s pretty,” he remarked, far too casually. 

Geralt snorted again. “Mm,” he agreed, because there was no point in lying. “But I think we’re better off as friends.”

Jaskier nodded with a grin, and Geralt promptly looked away.

“Are you following me?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

Jaskier’s tail splashed in the water. “Is that a problem?” he asked in way of an answer. When Geralt looked back at him, he was still grinning, all teeth. Geralt should’ve been mad. He should’ve yelled at him, but he didn’t want to.

_Fuck_.

“You’re going to get hurt,” he said.

Jaskier shrugged, “I think I can take care of myself.”

*

After that, they never went very long without seeing each other again, once every few weeks. Geralt traveled closer to the coast, but only because business was better near the water. Really.

(He didn’t even believe his own lie.)

Over the length of two years, they befriended each other, growing closer with each meeting. Geralt found himself already looking forward to their next meeting every time they parted ways. He knew Jaskier felt the same way.

He was _much_ more open about his feelings than Geralt.

But then -

He traveled to a small town and heard a commotion, cheering and singing. Geralt’s stomach lurched uncomfortably, and he couldn’t explain why. He walked to the heart of the town and that’s when he saw it: a net, and Jaskier.

He was gasping, clawing his neck, an arrow through his shoulder.

_“We caught him!”  
_

_“Kill him!”_

Geralt heard a rushing in his ears - ironically, it sounded like the ocean - and saw red. He stormed forward, drawing his sword and the townsfolk stumbled back, wide-eyed and pulling out their own weapons. “What do you think you’re _doing?_ ” he roared, swinging his sword in a warning.

“Get out of here!” a man shouted, holding a dagger and jabbing at him with it.

Geralt tasted his anger, bitter, as he pointed his sword at the man. Jaskier gasped, “Geralt.” His skin was dry, peeling. “ _Water_.”

Sirens didn’t need water, not constantly, but Jaskier had obviously been out of the water for too long. Geralt glared at the man. “ _All_ of you,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear. “I am giving you _one_ last warning: go back into your homes or let us through or - “

“Or _what?_ ” the man sneered nastily.

Geralt lurched forward, pressing the tip of his sword against his throat. The man dropped his dagger, and he assumed peed himself, judging by the rotten scent in the air. “Or,” he said simply.

He withdrew his sword and the man ran away. The others quickly joined him.

When the coast was clear, Geralt sheathed his sword and crouched down, gathering Jaskier in his arms. He walked - some would say _ran_ \- back to the water. He discarded his bag and entered the water with Jaskier, who sighed blissfully and flapped his tail.

He looked inhuman, finally, with scales on his arms and face, sharp teeth and claws. But Geralt wasn’t scared of him.

Geralt approached him, wading through the water. “This is going to hurt,” he said, nodding at his shoulder.

Jaskier held his head high, “I will heal. Do it.”

He grabbed the arrow and yanked it out of his shoulder. Jaskier hissed in pain and withered. Geralt blindly threw the arrow behind them. “Are you okay?” he asked, watching as blood - though, not quite - oozed out of his shoulder, black and thick.

Jaskier blinked, eyes watering. Geralt didn’t even know sirens _could_ cry. “Do you know hard it is for me?” he asked, “To fight my natural urges? But I _do_. I do it because I don’t want to be a monster, but that’s still not enough for them.” He gestured wildly at the land. “They will always hunt me because of _what_ I am, not who I am. There’s no stopping it.” He paused, gasping for breath. “Maybe I should just satisfy them, and be the monster they so _obviously_ want me to - ”

Geralt rushed forward and hugged him. It was the least he could do, considering he never had been very good with words. But he _never_ wanted Jaskier to think such cruel things about himself. He was _good_ , through and through, good in ways most humans weren’t. Jaskier stiffened for a moment before relaxing, sobbing openly.

“They’re wrong,” he said, meaning it. “You are not a monster, Jaskier. You could never be a monster.”

Jaskier pulled back, eyelashes wet, a mix of tears and seawater. “Do you really think that?” he whispered, looking hopeful and _beautiful_ and Geralt realized he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him and never stop. He shouldn’t, he knew, but -

“I _think_ ,” he said, slowly, “you are beautiful in every way.”

Jaskier lurched forward, throwing himself at Geralt, and they both sunk under the water. Geralt opened his eyes. The water was surprisingly clear or perhaps it was just a benefit for his enhanced senses because he could clearly see Jaskier right in front of him. There was no mistaking him for human, not in that moment, and yet he still thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He wanted to say so much, but he knew words would fail him, as they were ought to do.

Instead he reached out, gripping the back of Jaskier’s neck and dragged him forward, pressing their lips together under the water. Jaskier cupped his face between his hands, kissing back. Geralt wrapped an arm around his waist, right above where his tail began, beautiful blue and green scales, and tugged him closer.

Finally, they pulled apart and Geralt had to pop his head out of the water for air.

Jaskier watched him, looking torn between joy and despair. “Wh - what does this mean? For us?”

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. He tasted salt, and Jaskier’s emotions. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I mean, you’re - ” Pausing, he gestured at his tail beneath the water. “I don’t know how this would work.” Jaskier’s joy melted away just like that, and he quickly continued, “But I want to try.”

Jaskier grinned, bright as the sun, just like the first time they met. Geralt drew him closer and kissed him again. The details could be discussed later. Right now all he wanted to do was keep kissing him, over and over and over again.


End file.
